


Feeling Strangely Fine

by afteriwake



Series: WIP Big Bang Accomplishments [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caretaker Sherlock, Christmas Fluff, Dashed Plans, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fluff, POV Molly, POV Molly Hooper, Poor Molly, Sherlock Has a Plan, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Fluff, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, Sick Character, Sick Molly, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:49:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5455484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly had had plans for her holidays involving a cruise. Plans that did <i>not</i> involve having gallbladder surgery Christmas Eve morning or having Sherlock at her flat playing nursemaid while she recovered. But perhaps that was for the best, as she realizes that maybe there was something between the two of them that they'd both been denying for far too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I got an anonymous prompt at Tumblr with a lovely prompt that went " _Molly has to have a surgery during Christmas and she tries to brush it off to Sherlock that she's used to being alone during Christmas so he ensures that she has the best Christmas ever._ " I had thought about making it a one-shot story but for some reason it insisted on being multiple parts. _Hopefully_ I will be able to finish it before Christmas. ::fingers crossed::

She’d been having such horrible pain. She’d gone to the A & E at Royal London as soon as she’d gotten off her shift at Barts and they’d given her a bit of special treatment, bless them. After a round of tests and a cocktail of cranberry drink and barium sulfate for a CT scan they determined she had gallstones and an inflamed gallbladder and would need to have her gallbladder removed. That was just what she _didn’t_ want to hear; she’d made plans to take a holiday away from London over Christmas and New Years, take a cruise to the Western Caribbean, but they were going to take her into surgery the day before Christmas. Supposedly the surgery would only take a few hours, and she’d get to go home to recuperate, but she would end up spending most of her holiday in bed and it was going to take at least two full weeks to recover.

This was going to be a miserable holiday.

She made her way back home, her heart heavy. She supposed if she could find a friend who could get the time off on such a short notice she could talk to the cruise company about transferring the cruise package to them. It might be a nice treat for John and Mary; there was always the chance that they could get a crib for Lynette to use. And she supposed she could arrange for someone to check in on her if she couldn’t get out of bed, which, with major abdominal surgery, she had the feeling was going to be likely. 

Once she got to her flat she left herself in, noting almost immediately that the lights were on and that it smelled of Persian takeaway. That could only mean one thing. She set her handbag down on the table by her door and spoke as she took off her coat and scarf. “So I take it you heard,” she said out towards her sitting room.

“Surgery scheduled for nine in the morning Christmas Eve,” Sherlock said from the vicinity of her sofa. She moved out of her foyer and saw him sitting there, suit jacket off and shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, munching on midye tava. He motioned to a container that she hoped had hunkar begendi in it. She thought maybe she could stand that. When she sat next to him, she was pleased to see that it had. He handed her a fork and she sat down next to him. “I’m here to help arrange things for you.”

“Arrange things for me?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

He nodded. “I know that his cruise that you booked was your dream vacation,” he said, having another bite of his food. “By the way, if you want, you _can_ transfer the tickets, even on such short notice, and a certain married couple consisting of a blogger and assassin would enjoy the time away from their child, who Mrs. Hudson has graciously agreed to watch over the course of their trip, as I will be here for the duration of your recovery.”

Now she knew the expression on her face was one of shock. “What?” she asked, turning to him and ignoring the forkful of food hanging halfway between her mouth and the container.

“I have no cases at the moment. I do not plan on taking any in the interim, either, as you will be unavailable and hopefully John will be on the cruise with Mary. And you are a good friend. You have taken care of me in many ways. It’s time I return the favor.” He took another bite of his food. “You have no family to look after you, and most of your other friends are rather flighty, to be perfectly blunt. I am not as useless at home care as most would think, I can be decent company, despite what many people think, and in point of fact I have no other holiday plans and I _want_ to help ensure your holiday is not a miserable mess.”

She knew she was looking at him as though he had grown two heads, and after a moment he scowled and looked away. She dropped her fork in the container and then quickly put a hand on his arm before he could get up. “Sherlock, I just…I honestly thought I didn’t mean that much to you, that’s all,” she said, when she felt him push up against her arm as though he still wanted to bolt. After a moment she felt him settle and look at her hands. “Ever since last Christmas, we’ve been a bit more distant. Maybe even before that. Maybe since John and Mary got married. I mean, we spend time together, but it’s…”

“Like there’s been a barrier,” he said quietly.

She nodded. “Yes. That was part of the reason I took the cruise. I didn’t really think anyone would care whether I was here or not this year. I mean, I knew I would be missed, but I didn’t think it would matter.” She curled her hand on his arm slightly. “Maybe while you’re here playing nursemaid, we can see about taking that barrier down?” she asked hopefully.

He looked up at her, meeting her eyes before nodding slowly. “All right,” he said quietly. She gave him a small smile and squeezed his arm before letting go. Having gone through medical rotations and learning about various surgical things she had _some_ idea of what to expect during the surgery and physically when it came to her recovery, but to be honest? As she watched Sherlock go back to his meal before starting to make plans for what to do while she was recovering from surgery, she wasn’t sure she had any idea of what to expect _after_ the surgery at all.


	2. Chapter 2

There were a few preparations she had to make prior to surgery that she could do on her own, such as bathing with a certain antibacterial wash and watching the specific foods and liquids she ate and when she ate them, but the evening before she was to be admitted, Sherlock came over and said that in the morning there would be one of his brother’s cars at their disposal to take them to the hospital as well as to bring them back to her flat. She was glad he wasn’t making her stay at Baker Street; she didn’t mind his home, but if she was going to be recuperating from surgery, even if it was a relatively minor one in the scope of things, she’d rather do so at home.

They stayed up talking for a bit, going over things. She had been told she would probably be able to resume her normal dietary habits in a few weeks, when her body got used to no longer having her gallbladder, and she couldn’t wait; she’d been most displeased not being able to enjoy foods because of the sharp pains and increased nausea they’d been giving her. It had been absolutely miserable for weeks and she’d been living on a diet of plain baked chicken and salads and toast with light butter. It would be nice to indulge.

At least she hadn’t bought food for Christmas, though that left her in a bit of a pickle. Now she had to feed herself and Sherlock, and she sincerely doubted that she’d be up to cooking, and she was completely in the dark about his culinary skills, though she guessed they were abominable, from old comments from John. And most markets probably had slim pickings by now. They’d probably have to have takeaway, depending on what was open and what she could stomach, or she’d have to brave Sherlock’s cooking. She was going to have to anyway, if he was to play nursemaid. She’d see what his skill were on Christmas Eve, she supposed.

Eventually they retired for the night, and Sherlock didn’t even try and talk her out of her bed, dutifully heading toward the guest bedroom. He’d brought a suitcase full of his clothing but no garment bags, which had struck her as odd. He’d also brought his violin case, which had caused her to smile widely. She got ready for bed and crawled into it, shutting her eyes and trying to sleep, having a bit of trouble until she heard the faint, soothing sound of violin coming from the other room. She concentrated on that and soon enough she was able to get some sleep.

She woke up the morning of her surgery, slightly nervous. She wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything, and knowing that, Sherlock didn’t prepare any food or drink for himself. They made their way outside early, just as the sun was rising, to find a black sedan waiting to take them to the hospital. They got into the back seat and sat near each other. After a moment Sherlock spoke. “Nervous?” he asked.

She nodded. “A bit. It’s one thing to know the specifics from a clinical point of view. It’s another to realize you’ll be having it done to you.” He hesitated a moment, then reached over and put his hand over hers. She glanced at their hands, then up at him, but saw that he was looking at their hands. After a moment, she turned her hand upside down and pressed their palms together. “Thank you,” she said as she squeezed his hand. “This helps.”

He nodded and held her hand gently, sinking into silence for the rest of the ride to the hospital. He let go only when they had to get out and they made their way inside. Molly took care of getting checked in, then they were directed to the waiting room. Sherlock looked around, and then picked up a magazine that was nearby. “I suppose I’ll have to wait out here.”

“They can text you when the surgery is done and you can come to my bedside,” Molly said, and he looked at her. “That’s what they said when they were doing my intake.”

He nodded. “That might be best. I need to see about getting groceries for supper tonight. I think you’ll want something light.”

“If I want to eat at all,” she said with a small smile. “And it’s Christmas Eve. There might not be much on the shelves. You might have to improvise.”

“I’m quite good at improvisation,” Sherlock said.

Molly considered how to ask what she wanted to know. “Sherlock…just how well _can_ you cook?” she asked, rather tentatively.

“I’m no longer the walking disaster in the kitchen that John remembers,” Sherlock said. “While I was gone on my mission, I had to survive on my own. I had people teach me the basics, and then others improve upon my skills. I learned to improvise as well. Mrs. Hudson has been continuing my lessons upon my return. I’m no gourmet chef, but I am skilled.” He gave her a faint grin. “So you do not need to worry about contracting salmonella poisoning on top of recovering from abdominal surgery.”

She reddened slightly. “I wasn’t—”

“It’s all right,” he said. “I suppose I would have questioned my skills myself if I were you. John did call them into question multiple times before. Now baking is not my strong suit, no matter how many lessons Mrs. Hudson gives me, so don’t expect homemade scones or biscuits while I am nursing you back to health, but nourishing meals…those I can do.”

“All right,” she said. She gave him a smile. “I can’t wait to see what you can come up with.”

“I’ll have to try and impress you, then,” he said. Her name was called, and she stood up and began gathering her coat and handbag. “I’ll be there when you wake up, Molly. I promise.”

She stopped moving and looked down at him. “You promise?” she asked.

He nodded. “I swear it.”

“All right,” she said. She gave him one last smile and then headed to wear the nurse was standing, waiting to least her back to the surgical prep area. She was nervous, but as long as he kept his promise, as long as he was going to be there when she woke up, she would be fine. She’d be sure of it.


	3. Chapter 3

She was incredibly disoriented when she woke up. She was having a hard time trying to keep her eyes open, and when she went to lift her hand, her limbs felt heavy. She could feel a hand move over hers when she stirred, though, and when she was able to turn her head in that direction she saw Sherlock near her bed. “You’re here,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “I told you I would be.” He held her hand lightly. “How do you feel?”

“Groggy and sore,” she said, her eyelids fluttering closed again. “And I haven’t even tried to move, so I have no idea how sore my midsection is.”

“If you’re more or less fully awake, I’ll tell the nurses so they can come in and give us both aftercare instructions for you.” She nodded, and he got up and stuck his head out of the room, quiet for a few moments before he called for a nurse and motioned them over. From her vantage point she saw a bit of blonde hair at the doorway, but then it moved away and Sherlock came back. “Someone will be here shortly.”

“All right,” she said, trying to sit up. She shut her eyes at how much it hurt. “Oh my.”

“It was a major surgery,” Sherlock said, his hands moving towards her back to help her sit up. “You’ll be in pain for a time.”

“I hope they’ll give me something for it,” Molly said as she winced until she was in a comfortable position.

“I’m sure they will,” he replied. “Probably a narcotic pain pill of some sort, though a limited supply.”

She nodded, settling into her new position. She rather hoped she didn’t have to move much. She already knew getting in and out of her bed was going to be a nightmare, so she rather hoped she didn’t need to go to the loo often. Perhaps she should cave and let Sherlock have her bedroom and she should take the guest bedroom; the bed in there was lower and it would be easier to get in and out of it. “When we get back to my home we should switch bedrooms,” she said.

“I can swap pillows quickly,” he said with a nod.

She gave him a faint smile. “You knew I’d end up suggesting that, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, you have a high, four poster bed in your bedroom. It isn’t ideal for recuperation from a surgery like this. I felt moderately sure you’d realize it sooner rather than later. I hadn’t realized it would be _quite_ so soon, though. I thought it would be the first time you needed to get out of the bed that you’d want to make the switch. But if you can get comfortable on the sofa for a bit I can switch the quilts as well, so you have your favorite on the bed you’re using. I know it was something you found aggravating when I used your flat as a bolt hole in the past.”

“That’s all right,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “I have a lovely homemade quilt on it now, a gift from a friend. It will be fine.”

He looked down at her hand and was going to speak when the discharge nurse came in, giving them both a smile. She went over the care of the incisions, how to remove the tape holding them together in a few days time, what not to do until she was able to see the surgeon for her follow-up in two weeks and a few other salient points. Sherlock had quite a few other questions and the nurse seemed rather impressed, answering them in depth. Molly had to admit, she was impressed as well. She had the feeling he’d been doing quite a bit of research into what the surgery had entailed and how to take care of someone afterward.

When she was done Molly signed the last bit of paperwork and then slowly and carefully changed back into her regular clothing. Sherlock left the room to give her privacy for that and one of the nurses helped her. She had the feeling that, at least for a few days, she was going to need Sherlock’s help with this aspect of things, which meant she was going to need to get used to the idea of him seeing her in far less clothing than normal. That was a cheerful thought, she realized gloomily. Once she was ready she was situated in a wheelchair and when Sherlock joined her again she was taken back to the front of the hospital, where there was a black sedan waiting for then. Sherlock helped her in and got in himself, and they drove off towards her home.

“I made some purchases, while you were in surgery,” he said. “I let myself into your flat earlier this week, looked around. You have no nightgowns, so I got some for you. Long sleeve and sleeveless, cotton and flannel, so you have your choice. I don’t think your usual combination of pyjamas would do well with the irritation of sleep pants at your midsection. There is also a fully stocked refrigerator and pantry, so I shouldn’t have to leave to get groceries in case you need me for the next few days. I also picked up a few non Christmas presents. It might make staying in the guest room more bearable for me in the future if you choose to keep them there, but they should help alleviate boredom for you in the meantime.”

“Are you going to tell me what they are?” she asked.

“A rather nice flat screen TV, a Blu Ray player and a collection of some of your favourite films on Blu Ray.” He paused. “Those I already had in advance. They were among your Christmas gifts, but I thought you might appreciate them early.”

She gave him a warm smile and motioned for him to lean over before softly kissing his cheek. “Thank you, Sherlock. That will help immensely.”

She saw him turn just the slightest bit red at the tips of the ears. “Yes, well, I may eventually slip one or two things I can stand into your collection just so I have something to watch when I’m over,” he said as he moved back to his side.

“I won’t mind in the slightest,” she said. They settled into a comfortable silence until they got to her flat. He helped her out of the car and then took care of letting them in. She saw there was one of Mycroft’s men inside her flat, which was curious. “Monitoring the man setting up the system in the guest bedroom and the other surprise,” he said.

“Other surprise?” she asked as Mycroft’s man nodded to her and left.

Sherlock pointed to her entertainment center in the sitting room. She turned carefully and her eyes widened. It was _much_ nicer than it had been when she’d left that morning. The telly was flat screen now, and mounted on the wall, and there was a better sound system, and there was a Blu Ray player as well out there. “ _That_ was Mycroft’s gift, for when you’re feeling better,” he said with a slight sniff. “When he found out what I was doing he had to do his own bit.”

“I didn’t realize he actually liked me that much,” she said, slowly making her way over and fingering the sound equipment.

Sherlock shrugged. “He likes you well enough. You keep me from doing anything too stupid or dangerous, more than John ever did. I think he owes you for that. And it upstaged my gift, which made it all the better.” He made his way to her bedroom. “I’ll switch the pillows now.”

She watched him walk away and pondered that. She didn’t feel anything in particular towards Mycroft. He was decent, she supposed, but she didn’t really know him very well, and she supposed that was on purpose. But Sherlock seemed jealous of him all the same, when he had no reason to. It didn’t matter that Mycroft had given her a very fancy gift. Mycroft wasn’t giving up two weeks of his time to making sure she recovered from surgery as best she was able. He wasn’t going to cope with someone who may or may not make a very good patient. And he wasn’t doing it over the holidays, when he damn well could be spending it doing other things with other people.

But Sherlock _was_.

And she’d find a way to show him that that meant quite a bit to her.


	4. Chapter 4

Molly had gotten settled into the guest bedroom. The nighties Sherlock had picked out were actually very nice; all of them were nice and soft, and they were all assorted lengths. He’d actually gotten her enough that she could wear two each evening if she so chose. She wouldn’t need to buy another nightie for quite a while at this rate, or at least until the summer. She chose a sleeveless cotton lavender one with lace edging and a ribbon around the neckline before climbing into the bed and attempting to go back to sleep. 

When she woke up she picked up her mobile off the nightstand, wincing as she twisted slightly. Oh, this was going to be unbearable, she realized. She was going to hate being more or less bedridden for as long as she was in pain. She saw it was nearly half past five and she knew she should eat something but she wasn’t sure she could get up to get to the kitchen, even being in the lower bed. But she needed _something_ , even if it was simply toast and marmalade. She slowly sat up a little more. “Sherlock?” she called out.

It took a few moments, but soon the bedroom door opened and Sherlock came in. “You’re awake,” he said.

She nodded. “I just woke up.”

He looked over at her. “How do you feel?”

“Hungry,” she said. “Thirsty as well. And I hurt.”

“I can get you a glass of milk and one of the pain pills. I went to the pharmacy and got the prescription filled for you while you were sleeping,” he said. “As for food, there are individual beef Wellington pies cooling. They might be cool enough now, actually. Do you think you’re up to that?”

“Even if I’m not, I’d like to try one,” she said with a smile. “I mean, it’s Christmas Eve and all, and it sounds better than toast or salad with dry chicken.”

He nodded. “I’ll get you one, then,” he said.

“Stay in here and eat with me,” she said. He stopped, seeming to be surprised at the suggesting. “The bed is big enough for you to join me, and now that there’s a television in here and a Blu Ray player and all of that, you can join me here and watch a film with me.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m going to be stuck in this bed at least for a few days, I’m fairly sure,” she said. “I’d like to not be here alone all the time. I mean, I’ll be bored out of my bloody mind if I have to stay in here all by myself.”

“Yes, it will be easier when you can go out to the sitting room and relax out there,” he said. “But I suppose I can spend time in here with you. I wouldn’t want you getting cabin fever and going stir crazy. Who knows what you’ll do?”

She gave him a smile. “I may do all sorts of strange things. You may see a whole new side of me that you’ll absolutely despise and never want to spend any time alone with me ever again.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” he said, the barest hint of a smile on his face. “Is there a specific movie you’d like to watch?”

She thought for a moment. “’Scrooged,’ maybe?”

He frowned. “I don’t recall getting that one.”

“It’s in my cabinet. It’s a Christmas movie from the eighties with Bill Murray. A more modern adaptation of ‘A Christmas Carol.’ I used to watch it with my mum and dad on Christmas Eve when I was young, up until I went away to university. I hadn’t planned on getting to watch it this year since I was going to be on the cruise, so it’ll be nice to carry on the tradition.”

He nodded. “I’ll go get it,” he said before leaving the room. She occupied herself with moving up slowly so she was sitting up more. It hurt her midsection, but she supposed any position that wasn’t strictly horizontal or vertical would. But she got into a position that was semi comfortable, and soon enough Sherlock arrived carrying her tray that she’d bought in hopes of having breakfasts in bed carried in for her on it. 

When he got closer she saw there were two bowls on it containing the individual pies, which were larger than she had expected, two glasses of milk and a bottle of pills. There was also the familiar DVD case with Bill Murray’s face on it. He set the tray down on the side of the bed where he would be sitting and handed her her food and drink before handing her the bottle of pills once she had them sorted. Once he had done that he took the DVD to her player and popped it in, and she picked up the remote off the nightstand and pressed play when it got to the menu. “Surprisingly, it’s held up well over the years, effects wise. And story wise, too.”

“Well, ‘A Christmas Carol’ is a classic for a reason,” he said, moving back to the opposite side of the bed and picking up the tray to slip onto the bed and get settled. “A good adaptation should hold up well.”

“Do you enjoy the story?” she asked, picking up the fork that had been in the bowl and taking a bite of her food. She shut her eyes as she savoured it.

“I do,” he said. There was a pause. “I take it you enjoy the meal?”

“Sherlock, this is better than _my_ recipe,” she said when she was done swallowing. She opened her eyes and turned to look at him. “You have to tell me how to make this.”

He gave her a small smile and she almost could have sworn it looked like he was blushing. “I suppose I could, when you’re up to moving around,” he said with a nod, turning his attention to the movie. “I’ll try not to ruin your viewing of the movie by ridiculing it.”

“I would appreciate it,” she said, turning her attention towards her television. “And then, maybe when it’s over, we can watch something you like, if there’s anything you like?”

“Are you sure?” he asked slowly, looking right back at her.

She nodded. “You’re making time to let me have my Christmas Eve tradition, so it’s the least I can do.”

He hesitated a moment. “I saw you have the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy,” he said.

“Actually, I have all four of them,” she said, her smile getting wider. “If you want to wait until tomorrow, we can watch them all after we open presents, one right after the other.”

“But I have to make Christmas dinner,” he said, frowning.

She shrugged. “Takeaway. My treat. An extra gift to you. You can make me Christmas dinner on Boxing Day. Tomorrow we’ll do a Jack Sparrow marathon if you want to lounge around in my bed for eight hours or so in your pyjamas.”

He gave her a genuine smile at that and she felt her heart warm. Those were so rare and so precious. She loved getting those from him. She reached over for his hand to grasp as he nodded. “That sounds like an excellent way to spend Christmas.”

“Good,” she said with a warm smile back, squeezing his hand before turning her attention to the film. He was going to do so much for her that the least she could do was make his Christmas worthwhile. After all, he didn’t have to do all that he had done or all that he was still going to do. She owed him that much.


	5. Chapter 5

She woke up on Christmas Day after a fitful sleep. They had put in a second movie, “Stardust,” after “Scrooged” had finished, and surprisingly Sherlock seemed to enjoy it as well. Or at least he had until she had fallen asleep when Captain Shakespeare had dropped off Yvaine and Tristain to continue their way to Wall. She was rather surprised to find that when she woke up Sherlock was in her bed next to her, though considering the sun wasn’t out yet perhaps it wasn’t _too_ surprising.

When she began to stir she realized she still hurt tremendously and she cried out in pain, waking Sherlock up from his sleep. He stretched for a moment and then looked over at her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Oh, I just woke up and hadn’t gotten a very good night’s sleep,” Molly said, looking over at him.

“Ah,” he said with a nod. He looked over at her. “I suppose I should say Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas to you too, Sherlock,” she said with a smile. She turned and turned over for her mobile and picked it up, seeing that it was nearly five AM. “I suppose we could open gifts.”

“I don’t have any to open,” he said.

“Yes you do,” she said. “Mrs. Hudson and John and Mary sent yours over when I told them you would be staying with me, and I had some for you I was going to drop off at Baker Street before the cruise. So you do, in fact, have quite a few gifts here.”

He looked surprised by that. “I hadn’t realized. I’d ignored your tree, to be honest. I was just going to get you our gifts so that you could open them yourself this morning.”

“Well, then I suppose you should bring them all here and we can sort through them and both open them up,” she said, her smile becoming warmer.

He nodded, and then got out of her bed and left the room. He was gone for a little while at the start and then made a few trips back and forth, bringing the brightly wrapped packages in and depositing them in between where he had been laying and where she was. When he was done with that, he was gone for a little while longer again, and then came back with two mugs of steaming coffee. He moved around to her side of the bed and set one down. “Flavoured creamer and a little bit of extra sugar, just the way you like it,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said with a wide grin. She picked up the mug as he moved back to the other side of the bed and made himself comfortable, blowing on it and then taking a sip. “You open something first.”

“I should open a gift from you, I suppose,” he said as he began rummaging through the packages. He pulled out a long, lumpy, soft package. “Scarf?”

She laughed softly and then nodded. “Oh, you’re good. Yes, it’s a new scarf for you. I thought you could use a change, so it’s a bit different than the ones you normally wear.”

He grasped it in his hands and then tore the paper off the scarf. Inside was a red cashmere scarf, and he fingered it gently. “Thank you, Molly,” he replied.

“You’re welcome.” She had another sip of her coffee. “Go ahead and open more of your gifts. I just want to enjoy my coffee for the moment.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, somewhat hesitant.

She nodded. “I’m absolutely sure. I want to see what you got.”

“Alright,” he replied. She watched him rummage through the rest of the gifts, pulling his towards him, and then he slowly began opening each one. He seemed to like them all, especially the ones that she had given him, and he set them to the side with care after he unwrapped each one. Soon he was done and then he picked up a gift and moved it towards her. She set her nearly empty coffee mug on the nightstand and took it from him. It was a small square box and she gave him a curious look. “A gift from me.”

She carefully took the paper off and saw that it was a jewelry box, the perfect size for a bracelet. She opened the lid and saw a silver corded bracelet there with three silver flowers in the center, a small blue gemstone in the center of each flower. “Oh, Sherlock, it’s beautiful,” she said with a gasp.

“I know you like blue,” he said. “And I thought a necklace might be too much, and a ring had too many romantic connotations, so Mary suggested a bracelet. And I saw that and I thought you would appreciate it.”

“I do,” she said, looking at him with the widest smile she’d worn in days. “If there wasn’t a mound of presents between us I’d hug you right now.” She handed him back the box and he gave her a perplexed look, and then she stretched out her wrist to him. “Put it on my wrist?”

“Oh,” he said. He lifted the bracelet out of the box and then undid the clasp before placing it around her wrist and clasping it closed. He moved it around so that the flowers were on the top of her wrist and then she pulled her wrist back. “You really like it?”

“I do,” he said. “I’ll try and wear it as often as possible.” She went to open the rest of her presents, not sure if any of them would top that, but they were all spectacular. She got the rest of the DVDs from Sherlock that he had told her about the day she’d had her surgery, all of which were favourites of hers, and then she also got some lovely pieces of clothing from Mary and some books from John and a gorgeous piece of art from Mrs. Hudson, as well as other gifts from her other friends which were nice. The bottle of wine from Meena would have to wait till she was off pain medication, but it would be quite nice to enjoy a glass of Joseph Drouhin Beaune Clos des Mouches Rouge when she wanted a good Burgundy.

By the time she was done opening the last of her gifts Sherlock had gone to get them both more coffee as well as grab the Pirates of the Caribbean quartet. She wasn’t really hungry for breakfast at the moment, so starting the marathon now sounded like a good idea. He moved the gifts off the bed, placing hers carefully in various places in the guest bedroom so the breakable items wouldn’t break, and then put in the first movie. When he got back into the bed she patted the space next to her. “Move closer?” she asked.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She nodded. “I like sitting close to people I’m watching films with,” she said. He gave her a skeptical look, but then scooted over so that they were merely inches apart. After a moment she rested her head on his shoulder. “Is this all right?”

“This is fine,” he said, and she relaxed as he picked up the remote to get to the main menu. Hopefully today would go well. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but she wanted to be close while they watched the films. She missed being close to people and, while it might not be the best idea, she wanted to be close to him. She just hoped it didn’t blow up in her face while he was helping to take care of her.


	6. Chapter 6

Christmas Day went well. Because their movie marathon had started so early, they finished well before dinnertime, and so Sherlock decided to cook for her after all. He went nearly all out, which surprised her, and while she wasn’t able to eat all of it that evening she appreciated the effort. She had encouraged him to bring in some more movies that he liked and she found he had a fondness for WWII documentaries, so they had watched one in the guest bedroom that evening until she had fallen asleep on him.

When she awoke the next morning she woke up alone, much to her disappointment. That actually surprised her. Sherlock was in her flat. He was literally one bedroom away from her. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t within shouting distance. So why was she so disappointed he wasn’t asleep in the same bed with her? She had thought she had gotten over her silly crush but perhaps she hadn’t. But just based on the last few days, she was almost nearly certain he only saw her as a friend. A _good_ friend, probably one of his best if she was lucky, but _just_ a friend.

She looked up at the ceiling and pondered this development for a bit. She really had thought she had moved on. Not necessarily when she had started dating Tom, or even when she had gotten engaged to him, but after that. When Sherlock had gone back to heroin and overdosed when he’d been on the plane, she’d said never again would she see him as more than just a friend. That way he wouldn’t break her heart. She wouldn’t expect anything from him except the loyalty she expected from all of her friends. But apparently her heart thought otherwise. Oh, she still fancied him rotten, and him being in her flat for the next two weeks taking care of her could cause her to do some frightfully stupid things.

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, she thought. Maybe she should see about him spending his nights at Baker Street and just spending the days with her, or perhaps not even doing that and just coming to check on her when she needed him. Maybe that would be best. Then she wouldn’t get attached and want something more than she could ever have. Because if she ever got more with Sherlock and he broke her heart, she wasn’t sure she’d recover. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to pick up the pieces if he shattered her heart into a million pieces. It could very well destroy her.

But...but if they _were_ to get together, and if it _were_ to work out, they could be happy, perhaps. She could be happy with him. The time since everything that had happened with Magnussen had changed him, if this show of kindness he was showing towards her was any indication. He was a better man now, more caring, more kind. In some ways he was still the same old Sherlock, but in many ways he had changed for the better, in all the ways that truly counted, and perhaps that meant that if he chose to form a romantic relationship with her it could work.

She just wasn’t sure if she should hope for it or not.

After a few more moments she gingerly got herself out of bed and made her way to the loo. It hurt to make use of the facilities because of the surgery but the more she did the easier it got. She had the feeling by the end of the two weeks she’d be more or less back to normal, with only minimal discomfort. But for now, it was still a pain in the arse. Or more accurately, a pain in the gut. But she went about her business and then slowly made her way into the kitchen. Sherlock wasn’t awake yet, as far as she could tell, and she wanted some coffee. She went about setting it up and then moved to the sofa and sat down, feeling as though she needed to regain her strength.

The coffee was almost done brewing when Sherlock emerged from her bedroom, his face unshaven and him yawning. “You could have woken me up,” he said.

“I wanted to let you sleep,” she said with a soft smile. “I can do a few things, you know.”

“And you probably wore yourself out,” he said, moving towards the sofa to sit next to her.

“A bit, yeah,” she admitted sheepishly.

“I’m here to help you, Molly. Let me help you,” he said. “I mean, unless you don’t want me here.” He looked almost hurt when he said that.

“No, I do want you here,” she said, reaching over to put her hand on his arm. “I appreciate the help and I want you here because I like having your company and you’re a good friend. Why would you think I don’t want you here?”

“It’s not important,” he said, shaking his head. “Did you attempt to make yourself breakfast?”

“No,” she said. “Just coffee, enough for both of us.”

“Then I’ll make something for us.” She squeezed his arm and he looked down at it. “Are you comfortable on the sofa or do you need to go back to your bedroom?”

“I think I can manage to stay out here and keep you company for a bit,” she said with a smile when he looked up at her. “But it might be better to eat it in bed.”

“Then when you’re ready to eat I’ll put everything on a tray and we can take it to your bedroom,” he said.

“You’ll join me?” she asked, surprised.

“Well, if you’ll stay out here to keep me company while I cook, it’s only fair that I stay in there to keep you company while you eat,” he said. “But only if you want me to.”

“No, I’d like that,” she said. “I’d like that very much.” He nodded and stood up then, making his way to the kitchen, and she realized she’d decided then, apparently. No matter what happened, she wanted him to stay. Whether it led to something more or not, she wanted him to stay until she didn’t need him anymore. She just hoped that having him there didn’t lead to the dissolution of their friendship. _That_ she wasn’t sure she could take.


	7. Chapter 7

Things continued on for a few days and Molly got used to Sherlock being there. She had never really gotten used to sharing her flat with anyone else before; Tom had been close but even then there had been times he had felt like an interloper. And even before, when Sherlock had come to her flat to use it as a bolthole, there had been a sense that he didn’t belong there. But for some reason, _this_ time, it was different. He fit seamlessly. She was surprised and almost a little worried. If he fit so perfectly, would anyone else ever fit so well?

It had put her in a bit of a foul mood and it must have been noticeable because by the evening of the 30th she noticed Sherlock seemed to be distancing himself a bit, and that just made it worse. They had been getting closer, and now they _weren’t_ close, and that was bothering her. She’d snapped at him that afternoon and he’d snapped back, leaving her room in a huff, and she’d tried hard to go to sleep but had found sleep impossible. As it got dark outside she could hear the muted sound of what she thought was a WWII documentary on the telly in the sitting room and she knew she needed to apologize. She’d been a prat and he didn’t deserve it.

She got out of bed and moved gingerly out her bedroom into the sitting room to see Sherlock sitting on the sofa, watching not a documentary but her copy of “The King’s Speech.” She came over just at the point when Prince Albert has his session in Lionel Logue’s office with all the profanity spewing loose. “I imagine you wanted to do that to me today,” she said softly.

He reached over for the remote and pressed pause on the film. “Perhaps a little,” he conceded. “You usually aren’t so temperamental. I thought things were going well.”

“They were. They are. I suppose that’s why I’m upset.” He looked up, giving her a perplexed look, and she gestured to the empty spot on the sofa. “May I?” He nodded and she sat down gingerly. “Tom lived with me for a little while, after we got engaged but before it ended. It...didn’t work out well. That was part of the reason it all ended. We realized we couldn’t live together. But you being here, you fit in well here with me. I don’t know if it’s just because I’m ill and you’re taking care of me, but I suppose I worry that when this is all over, you’ll leave and no one else will fit as well.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You fancy me.”

“Yes, I suppose I do,” she said. “And it pains me to admit that.”

“Why?” he asked curiously.

“Because I know you don’t feel the same way about me,” she said. “We’re friends, nothing more. We have been for a long time, and that’s the best way for it to stay. That’s the best way for either of us not to get hurt.”

“So you think I might hurt you?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “You have in the past. I mean, I don’t know if you realized you have, but you have. And I don’t know if I can go through it again, not if we’re... _together_.”

“I see,” he murmured. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I had considered, if I were to ever enter into a romantic relationship with anyone, that perhaps it would be with you,” he said quietly. “But perhaps you’re right. Perhaps it’s not worth the risk.”

“I didn’t know,” she said, her voice just as quiet as his. Oh, she’d really put her foot in it now. She could feel tears stinging her eyes now. She could have had a chance, could have possibly had something, and because she was _so_ convinced she was better off keeping him at arms length as just a friend now she’d put the kibosh on anything ever happening. She felt a lump in her throat, and she swallowed it back down as she struggled to stand. “I’ll leave you to your film.”

“Molly?” he asked, concerned.

“No, it’s just...I made a mistake. I never should have come out here,” she said, feeling the tears start to fall.

He reached over for her arm and she stopped moving. “Do you want to try?” he asked, looking up at her, his voice full of an emotion she’d never heard in it before, one she wasn’t sure she could name. It seemed to be a mixture of hope and perhaps love and apprehension all rolled into one.

She nodded slowly. Oh, yes, she did. Now that she knew there was a chance, that they could have a chance together and that maybe, just maybe, they could be together and have things work out and be happy together, she wanted it more than anything. She wanted him to stay in her life and fit as well later as he did now. “Yes,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled her wrist just slightly and she sank back down on the sofa, and he carefully pulled her against him, putting an arm around her shoulders so that she could lean against him the way she had when they were in her bed watching the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. She relaxed against him and wiped the tears that had fallen away before resting her head on his upper chest, and then he started the film again and they settled in to watch it. Whatever else today was, it was a turning point for them, and it remained to see what the rest of her recuperation period brought for her. But at least today was a good start.


	8. Chapter 8

She felt slightly nervous the next evening. It was New Year’s Eve, the end of the year, and in just a few hours it would be a new year and a new start and she would be starting it with one less body part and one new relationship. This wasn’t at all how she had imagined starting her new year, but to be honest, she wouldn’t have imagined it any other way.

She had decided that she’d be damned if she was going to sleep through the start of the new year, so she had held off on taking her pain medication, instead deciding to stay in bed as much as possible and cuddle with Sherlock. He was surprisingly good at cuddling, she’d found. They’d gone though the films he’d gotten her for Christmas, as well as a few others he’d picked up for himself to enjoy when he came over. And now it was nearly midnight and they were waiting for the clock to strike down. She was rather hoping for a midnight kiss. That was the one thing they hadn’t done yet, shared a kiss, but if she didn’t get one she supposed that was all right. She wanted to let him help set the pace for this relationship because, unlike the fake relationship he had with Janine, this one was real. This one was an actual relationship and if he didn’t want to rush, so be it.

“I imagine you had better plans this year,” he said, running his fingers through her hair as her head rested on his chest. They were back to watching films of her choice and they were nearing the end of “Wrath of the Titans” now. In a few minutes they’d turn it off to see the New Year’s festivities on the telly and see the official countdown to midnight and watch the televised showing of the fireworks over the Thames.

“Well, there was the cruise, and I imagined I’d be in a nice dress and there’d be champagne and dancing and I’d be having the attention of attractive men,” she said with a smile, lifting her head up slightly to look at him. “But sparkling cider and the attention of one attractive man in particular isn’t so bad.”

He gave her a small smile. “But you do miss the nice dress and the dancing?”

“A bit, yes,” she admitted, setting her head back down. “But there is something to say for a nice night at home. I mean, it would be _better_ if I wasn’t recovering from surgery, but I suppose I can’t have it all.” She snuggled in closer to him. “I have to make do with what I can.”

“I’m sorry your plans went so awry,” he said.

“I’m not,” she replied. “I mean, I’m not happy about the surgery, but I’m glad you’re here. And while the last few days weren’t pleasant, with me pushing you away, this, with us...this is nice. The fact we’re going to try and make a go of things. The fact you _want_ to. It’s kind of a dream come true, I suppose.”

He went back to stroking her hair. “When you began talking about how it would be best if we remained friends, I’ll admit, I was disheartened. And then your reaction, when you started crying...I felt that perhaps there was a chance that you might change your mind.”

“I think both of us should have talked about this long ago and not been so stubborn,” she said. “We might have been happier, less lonely. We might have had less of a wall between us.”

“A wall of our own stubborn making,” he said.

She nodded slightly. “Yes. A wall we seem to have done a good job of tearing down this last week. And a wall I hope we _don’t_ allow to go back up.”

“I have no intention of allowing it to be put up anew,” he said. He let his fingers trail down her cheek. “I care about you, Molly. Quite a bit. As a friend, and as more than a friend. You’re very important to me. When I found out about your impending surgery, I wanted to take care of you to show you, because I realized I had done a shoddy job doing so so far. You were running away to a cruise rather than being here with any of us, and though I know that it is something you deserve and have been dreaming of for some time, I knew it was timed for now because I had not made it any easier for you to be here in London after everything we’ve been through, both separetely and together. I wanted to make you very aware of just how important you are to me.”

She shifted again so she could look at him, ignoring the pain in her midsection. “You’re important to me, too, Sherlock,” she said.

He sat up a little more, leaning in more, “May I kiss you?” he asked quietly.

She grinned, leaning in as well. “It’s not midnight yet,” she said.

“A kiss before midnight could be allowed, so long as you get one on the hour,” he said.

She nodded. “All right,” she replied.

He closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against hers. It was a soft kiss, more tentative than she had expected, but she relaxed against him, telling him it was okay to kiss her more passionately if her wanted to, to be more bold. He seemed to read that because he tangled his fingers in her hair and deepened the kiss into something that began to take her breath away, and she reached forward to clutch the shirt her was wearing in her fingers as she kissed him back just as passionately. Neither of them wanted to break away, to end the kiss, but eventually they needed to catch their breath, and she looked at him with a smile on her face. “That was a rather exquisite kiss,” he remarked.

She nodded. “Yes, it was,” she said with a smile.

“How much do you need to watch the countdown to the new year?” he asked, running his fingers through her hair gently.

“If we do more of that, I suppose not much,” she said with a soft laugh. “It would be a good way to ring in the new year, snogging my boyfriend senseless.”

“With kisses like those, I do indeed think you could get me to take leave of my senses,” he said with a small grin before pulling her in for another kiss. She grinned against his lips, and a few moments later she could dimly hear cheers through the wall of her flat. Apparently it was finally the new year, and she realized there was no better way to have rung it in than this.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Banner] Feeling Strangely Fine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7824967) by [Knowmefirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/pseuds/Knowmefirst)




End file.
